


Bliss and Torture

by Staubengel



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: F/F, Femslash, First Time, Fluff, Love Confessions, Pining, sensual smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-05 20:41:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15871368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Staubengel/pseuds/Staubengel
Summary: Crowley had always found Aziraphale attractive. No matter which physical shape he had had. But the one the angel sported right now positively drove Crowley insane. He had almost gotten used to the angel's former appearance, but ever since he had changed it to this current exemplar, Crowley was once more painfully reminded of his growing attraction towards his counterpart.





	Bliss and Torture

**Author's Note:**

> Since Crowley and Zira both have boobs and a vagina in this story, I tagged it with F/F and femslash, so people who want to read a story with this constellation will find my work.  
> Since they are both referred to as he/him in the original book, though, I will still use those pronouns in my story.
> 
> See the end of the work for an illustration.

Crowley had always found Aziraphale attractive. No matter which physical shape he had had. But the one the angel sported right now positively drove Crowley insane.

The way his hair fell down to his waist in silky, copper tresses. The way his eyelashes curved over his rich, brown eyes. The way his dress stretched over his full, round bosom.

Not that Crowley was significantly more attracted to breasts and vaginas than he was to a dick. It didn't matter to him, honestly, what a person's exterior was like. What attracted him immensely, though, was that it was _Aziraphale's_ bosom and _Aziraphale's_ lips that looked so soft and ready to be kissed.

He had almost gotten used to the angel's former appearance, but ever since he had changed it to this current exemplar, Crowley was once more painfully reminded of his growing attraction towards his counterpart.

He swallowed hard and looked down at his own body.

He, too, had changed into a body with a vagina and two breasts for now. They were smaller than Aziraphale's; his entire being was more slim and sharp-angled than the angel's was. Aziraphale was curvier, softer... Crowley _yearned_ to run his hand along these perfect shapes of his.

He looked back up at Aziraphale.

Of course, the angel was completely unaware of Crowley's desires. He was currently reading again, running his manicured thumbnail over his beautiful bottom lip, caught in the web of the story. The sight was so pretty that it almost hurt. Crowley couldn't help it, he _had_ to do something.

He had been craving this for centuries now. Their relationship had always been special; from the moment Aziraphale had decided to be amicable with him in the Garden even though Crowley had been the reason for all his trouble, Crowley had known there was something between them.

Aziraphale had never hated him, never despised him. He had never tried to smite him or get him out of the way. Sure, he had worked against Crowley's doings, trying to outdo the demon with his own works and miracles, but it had never been hostile. It had always just been a job, for the both of them. And in their breaks (which really they hadn't got, but you just _couldn't_ work 24/7, not even as an angel or a demon), they had spent their time together, sharing the things they enjoyed, like plays or food or music or a good glass of wine or two, talking.

And sometimes, when things got really heavy for either of them (mostly Crowley), they were always there for each other to lend support. Be it the Plagues of Egypt or the Spanish Inquisition, burning libraries or a natural catastrophe: Aziraphale and Crowley were the only ones there, the only ones understanding each other, getting what the other one felt.

It had always been like this, for several millennia. How could anyone blame Crowley for falling in love with this? Crowley, who had always needed validation. Belonging. Something secure and stable, something that assured him he was doing okay.

Aziraphale was rude to him sometimes, and, frankly, quite a bit of an asshole. But he always cared for Crowley. He truly and genuinely cared for him.

And if that wasn't already enough to love him, there were also the things about Aziraphale himself, not just the things he did for Crowley. His laughter, for example. The way he wrinkled his nose when he was disgusted by something. How he shoved his long locks behind his ear when they got in the way. The gleam in his eyes when he saw a rare book. The way he caressed it with his manicured fingertips. His smell. The warm and open way he looked at Crowley.

There was so much to love about the angel. And not being able to express this feeling had gnawed at Crowley's heart for far too long now.

He reached out and gently grabbed Aziraphale's wrist, pulling his hand away from his mouth. Aziraphale looked up, startled, closing his slightly parted lips.

“My dear?” he asked, in his beautiful, soft voice. “What's wrong? Do you –“

Crowley placed his hand on the book and forced the angel to lower it. Those red brows knitted together and frowned at him a little.

“Is there something wrong?” he asked, sounding more annoyed than concerned, but even _that_ Crowley loved far too much by now to let it stop him. “You seem distressed. Is something bothering you? Do you –“

Again, Crowley cut him off right there by taking his chin between his thumb and index finger and pulling him into a daring, light kiss. His heart was pounding in his chest in panic. But one more second without a kiss and Crowley would have suffered spontaneous combustion.

He didn't dare to pull away because he feared Aziraphale's reaction too much. He feared to look into those warm, brown eyes and see rejection, or worse: disgust, even. So all he did was – after a moment, when he was sure the kiss had lingered long enough to make Aziraphale aware of it – to withdraw his head for maybe a finger's breadth and to wait, his lips still hovering close to Aziraphale's.

His heart was still thumping as loudly as a big drum, he could feel the pulse in his ears and fingertips. His head was light, he felt the world spinning beyond his closed eyes. He felt panicked. Scared. But he couldn't not have done this. Not after all these painful, endless years of pining.

The seconds of waiting seemed to stretch into infinity.

Then, finally, he heard Aziraphale saying: “That was rather surprising.”

That statement wasn't helping Crowley's anxiety in the slightest.

“Don't make fun of me,” he begged lowly. “Please, Aziraphale. Not with this. It took me so long to finally do this and I couldn't take it if you –“

He was interrupted by a hand shoving itself inside of his long bob cut and soft lips pressing against his own. It startled him so much that he forgot how to breathe and gave a little, helpless hiccup sound.

Aziraphale pulled away again and stroked the back of Crowley's head with his thumb.

“I am by no means making fun of you, my dear,” he promised. “It wouldn't be very angelic of me to do so, would it?”

“I suppose not,” Crowley grumbled. Aziraphale's taste was still on his lips and it confused him. “But I guess it isn't very angelic to engage with a demon either, is it?”

Aziraphale hummed in thought and softly caressed Crowley's dark hair. Their faces were still so close to each other that Crowley couldn't see his features. All he could sense was his warm breath on his skin and it felt like bliss and torture both at the same time.

“I don't think I recall a part in the Bible where it says angels aren't allowed to love a demon,” Aziraphale said. “If I remember correctly, I rather recall passages that encourage you to love your enemy and that say that love is unconditional. Correct me if I'm wrong.”

Crowley blinked slowly. “Now it is very clear that you _are_ making fun of me,” he claimed, insulted.

“Why would you think that?”

“Because you just said that –...” _...you love me._

“I don't know what exactly you are referring to, Crowley, but I meant every word that I said.”

Crowley's natural self-protection kicked in and catapulted him into denial. Of course, Aziraphale didn't love him. Why would he? He was an angel, Crowley was a demon. He was so much better than Crowley and had always thought that he was. He was certain that Crowley was a bad guy. He was just playing a game with him to show Crowley how stupid he was for kissing him. He was –

Once again, Aziraphale's lips pressed against his own and violently derailed Crowley's disastrous train of thought.

Why would Aziraphale lie to him? If he was repelled by Crowley's kisses, he would have told him so _very_ clearly and unmistakably. And he certainly wouldn't kiss him back. Not that long and sweetly. Not that tenderly...

Crowley felt himself melting into the kiss.

It was as wonderful as he had always imagined, or maybe even better. Aziraphale's lips were soft and warm and he tasted of all things wonderful. Delight and happiness washed over Crowley in a powerful wave and pulled the rug out from under him. He fell, but it wasn't the desperate, frightening, arm-flailing kind of falling that makes you scream and fear the landing. No, it was a dizzying tumble that made you forget where Up and Down was and filled you with nothing but airiness and disbelief.

This was too good to be true, Crowley knew it. And yet he would savour every second of it in case it would all too soon be over.

He placed his hand on Aziraphale's cheek and began to kiss him back tentatively.

How often had he imagined this, and how often had he been so embarrassed about it that he had turned red and had forcefully distracted himself with a TV show or loud music? How often had he refused to see Aziraphale for a while because he had been too ashamed of his own thoughts to look the angel in the eye? Once, he had had a _dream_ about Aziraphale. He hadn't talked to him and hadn't slept anymore for two months straight after that.

Now these imaginations were real and Crowley actually didn't know how he managed to survive this without fainting and falling off the sofa. It was probably because he still feared this would end, or would just be a very vivid dream this time, so he clung to it with all his might.

As Aziraphale's tongue brushed against his lips, he opened them before he even realised it.

The taste of the angel multiplied tenfold as they started to kiss open-mouthed now. It was sweet and soft and earthy, the most wonderful taste Crowley had ever experienced, and it was grounding him with roots of belonging and reassurance. He always felt at home when he was with Aziraphale. When he smelled his scent or felt his presence. Talked to him. Saw him. Aziraphale was where he felt good.

Crowley let Aziraphale's tongue lead their dance and met it with accompanying strokes and pushes. He had so often read or heard about kisses and had always wondered how they really were. Now that he experienced them, he thought they felt like embraces or cuddles with your mouth. It was like stroking Aziraphale's cheek or hugging him, but with their tongues instead. And it was wonderful.

Crowley's tongue was very sensitive. It felt and tasted things a lot more intensely than regular people's. He often felt insecure about it, especially when other people got to realise that it was forked. But Aziraphale already knew that, and even though Crowley was very aware of his tongue still, he was mostly proud of what he could do with it.

Aziraphale's free hand started to roam over Crowley's side and back. It left a trail of soft pressure and warmth behind that immediately made Crowley yearn for more whenever his hand moved along to another spot.

Crowley's own hands lay on Aziraphale's neck, jaw and ears, the long hair of the angel tickling his fingertips. Crowley could feel his pulse drumming softly against his palm. The beat of his heart. The rhythm of his being.

Overwhelmed by the sheer joy and thankfulness of having Aziraphale this close to him, Crowley sucked his lips against his mouth and dove deeper into the kiss.

It was so much better than Crowley had ever imagined it to be. He was lost completely in the taste of Aziraphale's mouth and the warmth of Aziraphale's skin, in the feeling that his hand left when it stroked over his body. Crowley remembered what Heaven was like, so he refrained from calling situations 'heavenly' or 'divine'. But had he been a mere human, believing in Heaven as the epitome of everything good and wonderful, he would have called this very moment his personal Heaven for sure.

Suddenly, he jerked slightly, though, and pulled his head away from Aziraphale to stare at him in shock.

“What are you doing?” he asked, bewildered.

Aziraphale blinked back at him just as confused as Crowley currently was. His hand had slipped underneath Crowley's short black dress and was now resting against his upper thigh.

“Well,” he started, his voice sounding as uncertain as he looked, “I thought we would –... Didn't you want us to –...”

“What, fuck?” Crowley blurted out, because he needed to make clear just how absurd this situation was for him. Mostly because he panicked. It wasn't that he didn't want to sleep with Aziraphale, but by Someone, he was far too embarrassed to give in to it.

Aziraphale's expression changed into an annoyed and reprobative scowl. “Make love,” he corrected. Crowley was thankful he hadn't said 'copulate'. Still, the word 'love' struck him right in the heart when he heard it and made a fire break out in his insides.

He avoided Aziraphale's gaze and grumbled a: “Didn't know you angels were at it that quickly, anyway.”

“My dear boy,” Aziraphale said, and Crowley could _hear_ the lecture in his voice all too clearly, “we have known each other for around six millennia now. I would not call any of our doings 'quickly'.”

Crowley pressed his lips together to avoid giving a smart-ass answer. To be real, he was nervous about this, but he didn't want to tell Aziraphale. It had taken him almost 6000 years to even kiss his angelic counterpart. Immediately going over to intercourse was... quick in his eyes, no matter what Aziraphale thought.

Aziraphale seemed to notice his discomfort anyway. He placed a slender hand on Crowley's cheek and stroked it with his thumb, tilting his head a little to see Crowley's face better.

“Should I stop?” he asked, very kindly and seriously.

Crowley looked up, meeting the angel's brown eyes which studied him. All the love, all the yearning, all the need and want and trust he felt for Aziraphale surged up inside of him and swallowed his soul. It hurt, too strong for him to handle.

He leaned in and kissed Aziraphale dearly.

No, he didn't want him to stop now. He wanted all of him, everything, everywhere. Now.

Aziraphale hummed lowly into the kiss and tangled his hand in Crowley's dark hair once more. He responded to the kiss willingly, soft passion guided the dance of their tongues. Aziraphale's second hand resumed its way up Crowley's left thigh, until it had slipped completely under the hem of his dress. It was warm and tender. Crowley felt Aziraphale's fingertips sliding along the short legs of his black lace panties.

Crowley grabbed Aziraphale's face with both of his hands to pull him deeper into the kiss. He shuddered softly as the angel let go of his hair and ran his hand down Crowley's back until it rested just above the curve of his spine, holding Crowley steadily. Crowley would never admit to it loudly, but it felt good to be held like that. Kept. Protected. Wanted...

He scooted closer, half sitting on Aziraphale's lap now.

The angel's dress was longer than Crowley's, reaching down to the middle of his shins, but it had pulled up a little and Crowley could feel skin shifting against his own. Beautiful, smooth, and warm skin, soft and tender and marvellous. He wanted to feel it all over his own body.

He let his hands glide to Aziraphale's back and undid the fastening of his dress there. It was a hideous thing, he thought, an abomination of blue and red tartan on green. He would feel victorious getting this rag off of Aziraphale's figure.

As the angel felt Crowley becoming active in undressing him, he bent forward, leaning Crowley backwards on the sofa. Crowley didn't complain. He held onto Aziraphale's back, arranging his legs to fit around the angel's waist as he was laid back until his spine hit the big cushions on the sofa. They were made of hard, uncomfortable fabric. Crowley was glad he at least didn't have to see the horrible flowers on their front or the disgusting fringe that decorated the edges.

Then, Aziraphale's weight settled on top of him and Crowley was distracted by the sharp bolt of heat that shot down to the pit of his stomach.

He felt so good, _so good._ His hips nestled firmly against Crowley's front, tightly held by Crowley's own thighs, only the bulged fabric of Aziraphale's dress between their centers. His arm was trapped underneath Crowley now, his other hand moving up his thigh even further, gliding along the side of his buttocks and then over his hipbone. Crowley shuddered as it slid over his sensitive skin. The soft touch left goosebumps all over his body and he gasped lowly as the warm hand nuzzled against his side.

“Wait,” he mumbled, as Aziraphale wanted to kiss him again. “Wait, maybe we should move over to the bed instead...”

Aziraphale seemed to fall back into reality.

“Mh. Yes. Maybe,” he said, his face hovering over Crowley's so closely that their lips almost touched when he spoke. His beautiful copper tresses fell around their heads like a curtain, tickling Crowley's bare shoulders and his décolleté. He was incarnate desire. Crowley's heart ached for how much it wanted, needed and demanded Aziraphale. In the angel's absolute entirety.

Crowley kissed him quickly, softly, and slowly began to sit up again, taking Aziraphale with him in the movement. They got up together, half holding onto each other's bodies, their hair a bit dishevelled from each other's fingers, their dresses slightly creased. Crowley's lipstick stuck to Aziraphale's mouth. It was a beautiful picture of a hint of disarrangement.

Silently, they rounded the sofa and made their way over to the bed. It was big and solid, made of dark wood with carvings decorating the headpiece. The sheets were fresh and white and perfectly made, and it would have filled Crowley with a wicked joy to know they would disarray them, hadn't he been completely caught in Aziraphale's brown eyes and the quiet intensity of the situation.

They stopped in front of the bed and looked at each other. They were holding each other by the fingers, silently studying each other's faces. Finally, Crowley let go of Aziraphale's hands and gently stroked his cheeks, his features. Then he kissed him and only as he felt the other's warm lips did he realise how cold he had been without them.

He grabbed the edges of the opened back of Aziraphale's dress and tugged at them, pulling the dress off Aziraphale's shoulders. It fell off his arms and then Crowley pulled further, until it slid down the angel's perfect, round hips and fell down into a bulky heap around his ankles. He didn't know what kind of underwear Aziraphale was wearing and he didn't care to look. It was probably just as distasteful as his dress was, anyway.

Aziraphale opened the zipper at the back of Crowley's dress as well and Crowley helped him by holding his arms above his head so Aziraphale could pull the piece of clothing off his body. He was wearing black lace lingerie underneath. Even if Aziraphale hadn't gone this path with him today, Crowley had a certain kind of style to uphold.

They went back to kissing each other as soon as they could. It was more heated now, and deeper. They slung their arms around each other tightly and moved in close. Body pressed against body. They both shuddered from the closeness and the amount of skin on bare skin.

Aziraphale's breasts pushed up against Crowley's. Crowley began to become interested in Aziraphale's underwear now after all, but only because he wanted it gone. But before he could do anything in that matter, Aziraphale toppled them both over onto the bed.

Crowley fell on his back, trapped beneath the angel. Once more, his body pressed down on Crowley's and made the demon shiver slightly. No dress was left between them now. They didn't have to change their location. This time, it would stay like this, and the certainty of that electrified Crowley's entire being.

Their kissing became fully passionate now. Crowley didn't know what lust felt like for angels, but apparently, it was a very real thing.

He fumbled with the fastening of Aziraphale's bra until it finally came loose and tossed the disturbing piece of clothing somewhere far away from the bed. Then he seized the opportunity to let his hands roam over Aziraphale's back without a hindrance, revelling in the big area of soft and warm skin at his disposal.

Aziraphale hummed lowly against Crowley's lips.

The angel's own hand started to stroke Crowley's side, making goosebumps awake all over his body. His now freed breasts fell against Crowley's, soft and round and heavy, and Crowley caught himself wanting to run his hands around their ampleness.

He wanted more of Aziraphale's body. He wanted more of Aziraphale everywhere on himself.

He pressed the angel tighter against his own front and softly bit down on his lower lip. He felt a shiver going through Aziraphale's body, so he bit him again, a bit harder this time. Aziraphale grunted. His body began to move against Crowley's.

They lay so that one of Aziraphale's legs was set between Crowley's, and one of Crowley's legs set between his in return. Aziraphale now started to grind his hips down against Crowley, which made both their thighs rub against each other's core. Crowley gasped loudly as a bolt of pleasure shot up from his center and coiled his fingers against Aziraphale's back.

“Do that again,” he whispered pleadingly.

“You want more?” Aziraphale asked as he softly pushed against him. There was a tiny hint of darkness in his voice, something rough and primal, a piece of something an angel would immediately claim to have overcome and to be beneath him, but it was there, a glimmer of raw lust and arousal, and it multiplied the force of the sensation that sparked through Crowley as Aziraphale once more drove against his middle.

“Yes,” he breathed out, bringing his hip up to meet Aziraphale's. “Yes, I want so much more, give me so much more, angel...”

Aziraphale hummed again in a mixture of what had to be his own pleasure but also a portion of contentment about Crowley's answer. He propped up a bit, his brown, slender fingers wandered down Crowley's front, leaving a trail of shivers behind.

“Let me see,” he mumbled with his face hovering closely above Crowley's own. His fingers had reached the hem of Crowley's panties and were moving further down, further...

“I think what we need is right... here, isn't it?”

His fingertips brushed against Crowley's clit. Crowley jumped a little, gasping in surprise at the explosion of pleasure.

That seemed to be answer enough for Aziraphale, who hummed once more in contentment and then captured Crowley's mouth in a searing, all-consuming kiss before he set his fingers to work down there seriously. And by Someone, they sure knew how to do their job.

Crowley moaned into Aziraphale's mouth devotedly as his fingers unleashed a wave of electricity to pulse through his body with each press and stroke, each massaging rotation. Later, when he would ask Aziraphale where the heck he had learned to find the right spot to rub at and how to so expertly take advantage of it, Aziraphale would turn red and defensive and babble something about common knowledge, natural talent, and beginner's luck. Crowley, however, assumed it rather had to do with curiosity and with some certain writings Aziraphale wouldn't be caught reading if the fate of the Earth depended on it.

They picked up speed and pressure and Crowley gave a whining sound as his body reared up to meet Aziraphale's, his arms clutching him like he was a safety buoy in the mounting waves of pleasure.

He felt himself losing control of his body, giving in to urges seated deep inside of himself, wanting more, wanting completion. He pushed desperately and Aziraphale followed, sitting up and pulling Crowley along, who shoved himself up on Aziraphale's thigh, straddling it like a saddle, his arms still slung around his neck and shoulders. He held onto him tightly, frantically, as his hips curved and coiled in intense, vigorous motions, riding his core against Aziraphale's leg. He gasped and whimpered helplessly as he did so, chasing along the trail of his ecstasy like a madman while his body felt like it was on fire. He felt Aziraphale pant against him as he held him, was vaguely aware of his own thigh settled between the angel's open legs and rubbing him there with each motion, but he couldn't focus on it, couldn't focus... Just a little bit more, just a little...

Someone pulled the ground away from underneath Crowley's feet and he fell, but upwards. Relief pulsed through his body, centered in his loins, making his whole body contract with its rhythm. He gasped for air, clawed at Aziraphale's back and jerked his hips like in a fever, not able to hold still, not able to get a grip on himself. His lips pressed against Aziraphale's shoulder, his body shuddering in the last waves of his climax. Then it was over and he felt only warmth, like the afterglow of an all-consuming fire. His thighs trembled and his heart pounded like crazy. He felt Aziraphale breathing against him heavily.

The angel was holding Crowley steadily, but the demon could feel how tense he was and how loaded. Crowley's own lust had peaked and ebbed, but Aziraphale was still filled with electricity and Crowley could feel him buzzing with that white, hot energy that had filled up himself only moments ago. Aziraphale wanted something and Crowley could grant it to him. That knowledge stirred up his eagerness and made him desirous all over again.

He raised his head and brought it up to Aziraphale's earlobe, biting it gently which made the angel jump and hitch a breath. His arousal excited Crowley anew. He wanted to give Aziraphale the same pleasure he himself had revelled in earlier.

“Your turn now,” he whispered into Aziraphale's ear. The angel grunted lowly, maybe he wanted to say something, but Crowley grabbed him and pushed him around, shoving him down with his back on the mattress. He was eager to make Aziraphale come undone from ecstasy. It was a mixture of a wicked desire to tease him and a tender desire to please him.

He looked down at the beautiful picture painted in front of him: Aziraphale's body sprawled out on the bedsheets, copper hair curling around his head and his shoulders like the enchanted tendrils of a fairytale-tree, light, beige freckles dusting his brown skin around his nose, thighs and shoulders like accumulated stars of a long-forgotten galaxy. His eyes looked up at Crowley, framed by his red-brown lashes, a mixture of anticipation and uncertainty in them, as if he wasn't sure what was to come and if it was a good thing. Crowley smiled at him because yes, it would be. Then he snapped his fingers to remove Aziraphale's horrible panties and dove down like a snake on its prey to kiss him.

It was a heated kiss and Aziraphale sighed into his mouth as he brought up his hands to tangle in Crowley's hair and stroke the sharp topography of his shoulder blades. It was a sensual dance of tongues and a passionate scraping of teeth on lower lips, but it didn't last long before Crowley tore loose and began to kiss his way down Aziraphale's chin, throat and collarbone.

His skin was warm underneath Crowley's lips and with every breath, Crowley could smell his intoxicating scent. He lingered a bit at Aziraphale's bosom, closing his mouth around his breast, softly sucking at his nipple, sinking his teeth ever so slightly into the soft, round figure. Aziraphale moaned and shivered underneath him, his rising lust sharpening his senses and multiplying the effect of Crowley's attentions.

Then he moved lower, over Aziraphale's stomach, dipping his tongue into his belly-button. Then lower, lower, down between his legs which he ever so willingly spread for him, to his folds, to his center, that was throbbing with desire.

Crowley lay on his belly and grabbed the angel's hips, adjusting both their positions until they aligned perfectly, before he luxuriously dove into the wet, soft heat of Aziraphale's middle. The angel moaned, half delighted, half surprised, and pushed his hips down to meet Crowley's devoted licks and suckles.

It had its benefits to be good with your tongue. The way Aziraphale's body jerked and shuddered and the way he moaned, loud and high-pitched, was a definite proof of Crowley's high skills. He had to hold on to Aziraphale's hips tighter as he proceeded, to keep the angel from writhing them too much.

Sometimes, in between, Aziraphale would sigh or moan Crowley's name. It was awkward to hear him utter it like this, drowning in his ecstasy. It felt wrong and forbidden, like something Crowley shouldn't be allowed to hear. But at the same time, it was the most beautiful thing Crowley had ever heard, and he caught himself being encouraged by it.

He started to suck and lick harder, move his tongue and lips quicker, and soon he had Aziraphale chanting his name and yanking at the bedsheets desperately before even curling the fingers of one hand into Crowley's dark hair.

Crowley was more excited than he had ever been.

With the decisiveness of a demon with a mission, he clutched Aziraphale's hips tightly and worked his mouth at the peak of its capability. Aziraphale's orgasm was heralded by a strangled moan.

Crowley held him as he came beneath him, his lips still pressed against Aziraphale's core. When he stopped trembling, Crowley moved up and pressed a soft kiss on the warm skin beneath his navel.

He felt hands reaching for his face gently and let Aziraphale pull him upwards to meet him. They shared a soft kiss, Aziraphale still out of breath. Crowley could taste him on his tongue still, sweet and a tiny bit salty. He felt absolutely satisfied as they parted, and not only in a sexual way. Finally, for once, he felt good and content and happy, like a century-long struggle had finally been solved.

He snuggled against Aziraphale's side and wrapped his limbs around him possessively, seizing his body. The angel hummed lowly and stroked Crowley's arm and hair, and Crowley thought he could sense him smiling. Warmth and safety radiated from him and enveloped Crowley in their gentleness.

“I love you, my dear,” Aziraphale whispered. The words sank heavily inside Crowley's heart and made him grab Aziraphale even tighter. This was everything he had ever wanted. It felt so good to finally have it that it overwhelmed him with fulfilment.

They stayed like this for what felt like eternity; Crowley clutching Aziraphale tightly and the angel caressing the demon's hair, the soft glow of love and satisfaction hovering around them like an invisible halo.

When Crowley fell asleep like that at some point, he dreamt of peace and calm insouciance, of books and wings and candlelight, of the soothing presence that was his Aziraphale and of the safety he felt when he was with him. As he woke up, Aziraphale was still lying beside him, loosely cradling Crowley with his arms. He looked tranquil and beautiful in his sleep. Of all the sights Crowley would encounter in their shared eternity, this would forever remain his most favourite one out of all of them.

 

 


End file.
